Chapter Text
Lucifer has made a mistake.
He knows it the instant the words come out of his mouth. His wings. He shouldn’t have said that. He doesn’t trust Dan; doesn’t even know what the other man’s plans are, and showcasing his most vulnerable limbs in front of him doesn’t sound like a good plan. Not by a long shot.
For all he knows, Dan has just come to kill him - lure him into the sweet trap of hope and care, and then strike him viciously, then stab him in the back. After all, how is it even possible that Dan - Dan! - is here, not scared of him, and the detective is? The Detective, who means everything to him, who he can - has - sacrificed his life for; who he lov-
Chloe, who is the most kind-hearted soul he has ever seen, even the first murderer seemed to have changed a bit by her influence; even the Devil’s heart of stone melted by the flames of her goodness and passion; Chloe, who gives everyone a second chance, a space to express themselves. Countless number of times, he had seen her questioning everything she sees; to listen to both the parties in the case before coming to a decision. He had seen her hearing the reasons of the criminal to weigh the injustice that happened to them and thus delivered the same to others. Over the years, Lucifer had seen her being fair, justified, and empathetic.
But in his case, he doesn’t get any.
Lucifer thinks he might be angry at her. Initially, he was.
Right after everything happened. Right after she fled. Lucifer had given her space for 3 days, and then when no response came from her side, he had decided to be the one to encroach the gaping distance between them. He had stood in front of her door for hours, ignoring his pain and ache, ignoring the oozing wounds, praying with all his might that just once she would open the door. He never dared to do that himself, despite his abilities. The Detective needn’t that, and it would have been a breach of her privacy.
He had called her nth number of times, messaged her, emailed her, desperately asking for a chance to just… explain. She must have had questions, she must have been drowning in an existential crisis, and he was ready to answer her, to tell her everything. But she didn’t listen. Only when his own health deteriorated and days passed, he stopped, the last ounce of hope leeching away. It was then, that for the last time, he dared to visit the precinct.
Dressing up was agony. With limited movement, it had taken him hours to bear any semblance of his past self, though he isn’t sure he had been successful enough. He had taken an Uber, not being able to drive himself. But what awaited him there had been the final nail in the coffin.
He had begged Daniel to let him talk to Chloe.
Please, I want to talk to her. Once. Before-
Before it was too late. Before he couldn’t. He didn’t say. And in his rage, Daniel had spoken. Chloe was gone. She ran from him, and she is currently hiding from the Devil himself. That hurt him more than his own Fall had.
And Lucifer had been angry.
She didn’t even give him enough importance to let him explain. She didn’t even think of him as a person then. Just a nightmare to be escaped from. How could she?
Five years of friendship, of trust, of almost something more, and yet…
So, yes. Lucifer had been angry. Angry at her. Angry at himself too; at the kind of impression he must have given her that would make even Chloe Decker scared of him.
But now? Now, the anger has left, leaving only pain and heartbreak in its wake. He had really thought there could be something between them, that he could have been happy with her. But, as usual, the Universe laughed at his desire, and now here he is.
Daniel is still waiting for him to spread out his wings, to let him know how much pain he is going through. It is novel, really. For someone being there for him, knowing the whole truth, and still wanting him to share his pain with the one. So, it fills him with suspicion. It is too good to be true. He can’t accept Dan’s presence; can’t accept the fact that the douche is here and Chloe isn’t. That he can accept Lucifer’s truth and she can’t. Why?
“I don’t wish to boil your brain with divinity, Daniel. I am sure you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” Lucifer rasps a meek attempt to get out of this show of vulnerability. Dan isn’t having it.
He straightens, and then yanks the blankets over him, leaving Lucifer bared and curled up. “Come on, big guy. It was a deal. Whip’em out, I know I can handle it.”
“You can’t… make me.” Fear mushrooms in his gut, though he tries not to show it. Shivering, he curls into himself more. Something must have shown in his face or his voice because Dan softens a smidge.
“Listen, I know you are sc- skeptical about the whole thing, but I promise I will not harm you intentionally. He raises his hands, placatingly.
Another wave of pain has Lucifer gritting his teeth, forcing all of his dwindling energy into not showing the weakness on his face. He can’t go on like this. His back is on fire, and his breathing bloody hurts. His lungs are truly exhausted working with what little air he can gasp achingly. His wounded arm is almost paralyzed and near to be amputated. He is just one tiny breath away from dying.
The realization hadn’t really bothered him before, rather he welcomed it. But now, facing Dan, and with a possibility that he might hear Chloe’s voice after so long, he silently dreads it. Dying would mean getting stuck in Hell without a corporeal form - ergo, hell loop, for sure. Dying would mean leaving the Detective; abandoning the tiny chance that perhaps she might want him back in her life. Dying would mean no Miss Lopez and her warm hugs - he might be on borrowed time with her, but still, she means a lot to him. Dying would mean never being able to see his close ones ever again. Dying would mean permanently getting forgotten.
That thought scares him the most.
The thought of everyone moving on in their lives, not caring one bit about him or his death, not even his name being remembered after him. He knows he is temporary to all of them, easily replaceable, and not an object of love or care or be remembered about, but he is eternal, may it be in the corporeal form or his soul. He will remember all of them, every day of these seven years spent on Earth, every quirk of his friends - at least friends from his side, he doesn’t know about how they see him. But…
He wants to be remembered by someone dammit. He wants to know that he would be missed, that he had been important enough to be missed. Lucifer almost smirks. Wishful bloody thinking.
It’s a weird cacophony of voice whirling around in his mind. He wants to die, he wants the pain to cease, to have peace for a change. But then again, he also wants to stay here. At least his annoying presence won’t let them forget him. At least, he would still be someone in their lives.
“Lucifer?”
His eyes blink open; strange, he doesn’t remember closing them. Dan’s blurry outline fills his vision and blinks again to clear the image. The other man’s face is pinched with… no, that can’t be right, but he swears it is worry and fear. Though this fear doesn’t look like fear of him. “Hmm?”
“You were silent for a long time bro.” He says, his frown ever-deepening. “I got worried for a sec.”
It is so cold. Dan should really give those blankets back. He is so exhausted, he can’t even form a full sentence, “Tired.” He mumbles.
Dan’s face changes to raw panic then. “Hey, hey, Lucifer, don’t sleep! Come on, stay with me, here. Talk to me, gimme your wings or something!”
Oh, what the hell. Either way, he will die. Maybe Dan will make it quicker than his pathetic ailing. “Move.”
“Huh?”
“Move, the wings’re big. Will hit you.” Lucifer rolls over on his stomach, and the small movement costs him a lot.
“Oh! Uh, just a sec!” Dan’s voice floats across the penthouse, indicating he has moved over. “Yeah, I am ready! Whip ‘em out!”
Bones grind together as Lucifer wills them out of their pockets where they had been forcefully pushed into. Something snaps and he screams, hot white flash of pain blinds him, and with the last ounce of determination, he pushes.
Whoosh!
The wings drape over him like an itchy blanket, stretching and dropping down to the floor. His ears are ringing, blood pounds in his head, and he just lies there, bell-rung. Distantly, he hears a gasp, and then lots of swearing.
“Jesus, Lucifer!”
“There’s an oxymoron.” He can’t help but add, though quietly. He turns his head to give his wings the first glance since the fateful day, and he agrees with Daniel, for a change. They really are rotting. Blood and his divine ichor have covered the entirety of his wings, and now dripping down, no doubt making a mess on the Italian floor. The bullets are still lodged inside, but thanks to his supernatural healing, the skin has regrown on them. There are alarming amounts of bald patches where the feathers have rotten, turned black, and fallen off.
Well, fuck.
“What do I do? What do I do? What do I do, Lucifer?!” Dan screeches.
He firmly stomps down the volcano of annoyance, threatening to erupt. “ Obviously, clean the surface, pluck the loose and rotten feathers. Cut open the healed skin to remove the bullets and realign my wing bones, especially the Ulna and Metacarpus.”
“ Fuck!”
“Precisely.”
“FUCK!” More screeching. Looks like Dan’s brain has indeed been boiled over.
“Not in the mood, Douche.”
“Shut up. FUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK!” More swearing, and then, “Okay, okay, do you have a first aid kit or something? Scalpel and gauzes.”
“Bathroom cabinet, first shelf. You will find everything there.” Soft footsteps reach his ears, followed by the sound of doors opening and closing and things being rattled around. Lucifer closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds.
A soft clink has him open those again to see Dan placing a large glass bowl filled with water on the side table. Strips of medicines, gauze, pads, tweezers, and scalpels are scattered around. He hums, feeling the heat on one of his feathers, but not quite. He just knows how Dan is hovering his hand over the wings, just short of touching.
“Um… I am going to touch them now. Is that okay?” Quite frankly, he really is surprised at the show of consideration towards him. Giving a silent nod, he burrows his face into the pillow, anticipating the agony that is to come. Then, he feels soft hands on his feathers, hesitant and exploring. The light touches tingle, accosting Lucifer with unwanted memories of a better time long ago.
Back then, he was still a part of a family. When there had been siblings who would still take care of him. Now though…
But with Daniel’s gentleness, he can pretend just for a moment that he is safe, that he will be cherished. Nobody… nobody since his Fall has touched him just for the sake of it. ( The Detective did, but-)
No, he is not going there. Lazy tears pool in his eyes, dripping on the pillow that he is thankful for hiding his weakness. Daniel gets to work, cleaning the wings and disinfection them. That part is not too bad. Obviously, they hurt, but he is grown used to that pain.
“Lucifer, this is gonna hurt, now.” That’s the only warning he gets before Dan plucks the damaged feathers, simultaneously cutting open the regrown skin and fishing out the lodged bullets. There is no pattern to the job as if the man is multitasking in a way to do it faster and faster. Sadly, it doesn’t lessen the pain for Lucifer. He grunts and groans, fisting his bedsheet. Sweat snakes down his back as he tries to hold onto the last smidge of sanity in the ocean of pain, hurt, and agony. Dan is ruthless, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even take a break.
“I am doing this, just so that you don’t have to endure this for too long.” Dan had grunted in the beginning and that has been that.
Amongst the grunts, whimpers, and screams, Lucifer does everything to hold on, to be conscious. But only when Dan had relocated the wing bones does he fully slip into unconsciousness, the torture being unbearable.
He doesn’t know how much time passes; he slips in and out of consciousness. And in his torpor, Lucifer dreams.
The dreams are… weird. They are not ugly, they aren’t the nightmares, he has grown used to. Instead, they are of warmth, comfort, and care. He doesn’t remember them, but the fuzzy feelings stay. It’s as if someone consciously trying to comfort him, even in this state.
I am sorry, my son.
Lucifer blinks open his eyes, half expecting the world around him to collapse. But nothing happens. His room is dark, the moon lampshade being the only source of illumination. Sprawled on his stomach, he feels like minced meat, his entire body sore; but it is not the agony that he bore for the last few weeks. Rather, he feels fine, better even. Not like he is an inch away from death, but more like 3 good weeks into recovery.
Huh.
He squints his eyes, turning his head, getting a clearer vision of his wounded arm now. The wound had been cleaned, disinfected, and is now wrapped under thorough, neat bandages. He feels the stitches as well. Well…
With some more effort, he pushes himself up a bit, twisting to glance at the wings, only to find them bandaged as well, two wooden sticks and a cut of bedsheet used as a temporary but still effective sling, restricting the movement, and providing him the much-needed relief. He sighs.
Daniel had been busy. And to do all of these alone, single-handedly…
He should give the man more credit; after all, he deserves them. But.. where is he? Lucifer can hear the other man’s breathing but can’t exactly pinpoint his location. He wants to, but eventually, his eyelids turn heavy.
His limbs are like lead, and it doesn’t take much time for him to lose himself in the peaceful embrace of blissful rest.
The next time when he wakes up, the soft light of dawn shines through the cracks of his curtain. Lucifer groans, his throat drier than Sahara"s. He must have made some noise because Dan appears in his field of vision.
“Hey!” Dan mumbles, settling at the edge of the bed and offering Lucifer a glass of water and the straw to drink, which he does, gulping down the cool liquid greedily. Sliding his gaze from the glass to Dan’s face, he can see the lines of fatigue on his face, his eyes sunken, and traces of dark circles appearing.
A wave of guilt hits Lucifer, unexpectedly. He shouldn’t have put this burden on Dan. Anyways, he was in mourning. Lucifer had no right to-
“Hey, I can hear your thinking, you know.” Dan’s voice cuts through the haze of guilt that Lucifer’s mind is spinning.
The Devil grimaces, “I thank you, Daniel. I owe you.”
He chuckles, “It’s fine, man. Seriously, am just glad you’re not dead. How’re you feeling?”
“Much better. How long was I out?”
“Twenty-three hours, give or take. You had a lot of healing to do.” Dan takes the opposite armchair, easing into a comfortable position. Lucifer does the same, rolling onto his side, in a position where his wings are not crushed, and faces Dan clearly.
“Apologies for the…” Lucifer grimaces, “mess.”
Dan studies him for a moment, and justifiably so, given Lucifer had never acted so meek. To be honest, Lucifer is scared. He doesn’t know how the Douche of all people is affecting him this much. He supposes it because it feels good to have someone who completely believes in him, Devil and all, and still be here. Linda had been the only one for all these years, but he is pretty sure she is hanging there just because he is a fascinating patient. She had already shown signs of being just done with him - after all, she had been very keen on just acting as her therapist rather than a friend for the past few months…
But with the douche… This is too good to be true. He is terrified that his one wrong move would send the human running up the hill, shouting about mankind’s worst boogeyman.
Dan sighs, “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.”
They lapse into silence, with Lucifer still too tired to make conversation and Dan just processing everything. Calling whatever that happened around him for the past few days crazy is an understatement.
Although, Dan cannot deny that it helped him. A lot. It gave him a distraction. Being slapped on the face hard by mind-altering reality already when you are at the lowest point of your life, I mean, you can’t deny that it changes things in your life; gives a new dimension to your life.
He is not bound by the mournful limitations of a human perspective. He has been given the chance to extend his horizons. He is looking at things a new way, thanks to the conversation with 99%-sure-God. He is fairly certain that Charlotte is happy. For so long she had been scared of Hell. For nights, he had lain awake and soothed her nightmares of Hell away. He hadn’t understood then, chalking it up as PTSD. But now, now he understands.
That thought fills him with peace. There’s still time. And he is sure he can turn his life around. Lucifer had told him the other day about how Hell works, something about guilt… He didn’t understand it fully, trapped in the throes of his fear, but now…
“Hey, Lucifer?”
The Devil in question who was on the verge of zoning out jolts, brought back to the present, blinking and focusing on Dan. He feels sorry for him, and yet he can’t seem to stop. He just needs to know…
“Yes?” Lucifer croaks,
“Uh… What drags us to Hell?”
His mouth drags downwards, a pained wince crossing his face as his wings ruffle instinctively. Dan can tell that it’s not a conversation Lucifer wants to have if his agitated expression is taken into consideration. Although, the Devil abides.
“I believe we already went through but I know your weak mind takes time to register stuff.” Lucifer smirks for a moment, “it’s guilt. More than the sin itself. And when I talk guilt, it’s not ‘oh, I kicked a puppy’ kind of guilt; it’s the heavy, real guilt that weighs you down and forces you to relive your life’s worst moment over and over again without any hope of reprieve or rescue.”
Dan takes a moment to let it sink in. He is pretty sure Lucifer has downgraded the entire experience for both of their sakes and yet, he thinks it’s terrible.
“So… what if I have like… multiple guilt or something?”
“Then, they will all amalgamate into one incident crafted and tweaked by the demons to torture you even more.”
“What about psychopaths? Like Hitler or something…They don’t have guilt so they don’t go to Hell?”
Lucifer inhales sharply, “Normally, Rae- er, Azrael, the angel of death is responsible for dropping the soul to their correct location, and in those cases, I come into play. The Devil’s tortures are exquisite and customized to every soul.”
The Devil who is currently speaking to Dan. The Devil who might just be one of Dan’s closest friends. How is this his life?
“Okay.” He swallows, “So… if I go down there, you know after… after I-”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lucifer instantly denies, “I know you have gotten the Hell-bound stink in your soul, but that doesn’t mean you can’t change it. You now know the key element of a one-way ticket to damnation, so you can use that to your advantage.”
“But-”
“And even if,” Lucifer just overrides Dan without hesitation, “for some inexplicable reason you go down there, well… good for you that the Devil knows you personally.” He finishes with a wink, grinning weakly.
“So, you will not let me get tortured?”
“Well, as fun as it is to watch you cry, I give you my word, Daniel, that you will be safe in my kingdom.”
Right, yes… Because Lucifer is a king. King of Hell. Come to think of it, a lot of his mannerisms actually do make sense now.
“Do you have a throne or something?” Dan leans forward, suddenly very interested.
“Why, of course, Daniel. What do you take me for? I am a king after all. And it’s been ages since I sat on my throne.” Promptly followed by a dramatic lament. That ass.
“Uh huh,” Dan nods, “And a castle? With grand stairs to your royal room? Like a princess?”
Lucifer scowls, pushing his body upwards a bit, indignant, “Like a WHAT?! I am no princess, although if that’s a bit of foreplay and tickles someone’s fancy, I am up for it. But yes, I do have a castle and I do have stairs, thank you.”
A small twinkle creeps into the Devil’s gaze, filling Dan with muted pride. It’s good to see some fun aspects of Lucifer returning even in the face of adversaries. Boy, had he missed those.
“Naah man, you are exactly like a Disney princess.”
Lucifer splutters. The sight is so funny that Dan can’t help but laugh that in turn spur Lucifer to grin. The moment of levity vanishes soon enough as an indirect implication of Dan’s statement sits heavy between them. Disney is universally related to romance and a savior prince.
In Lucifer’s case, it’s the Detective.
Right. Time to hold up his end of the deal. Chloe should have woken up by now, the time difference and all that.
“So… should I call Chloe now?”
The intense, raw, and unadulterated longing in Lucifer"s broken gaze is answer enough. Wordlessly, he pulls out the phone from his pocket, dialing Chloe. The shrill ring of the phone feels like an execution. The phone rings and rings and Dan almost thinks Chloe won’t answer but then-
“ Hey Dan.”
He puts the phone on speaker,
“Hey Chloe, good morning! How are you doing? How’s Trix?”
“I am good, Trix is enjoying herself so very much! How are you?”
Lucifer breathes out slowly. His exhale is tinged with heavy relief. He breathes out as he is spurred to life, he breathes out as if his next breath will be the first easy breath he will take in a long time. Tears well up in his eyes but Lucifer closes them, swallowing thickly.
“Uh..” The rare display of emotions has thrown Dan off the loop. “I- I am doing okay. We are missing you.. When are you coming back?”
There is a moment of silence on the other end, even as both men hold their breaths, “ Soon Dan. Maybe next week or something. I miss you all too. Trix does as well! Oh! Do you wanna talk to Trix? Wait a sec-”
“ No, no. I am just getting ready now, I will talk to her tonight, okay?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure, okay.”
Dan nods, even when Chloe can’t see him. A flash of hope and happiness passes Lucifer’s face. He is half tempted to name the Devil in the conversation, but he doesn’t know how Chloe will react. Lucifer is right in front of him, and if Chloe says something wrong in the haze of fear that will send him right down the rabbit hole that he managed to pull himself from. No, no.. He can’t do that. On the other hand, Lucifer is looking at him with imploring hope. Surely, he doesn’t expect him to talk about the Devil stuff right now? Chloe would definitely hang up the call. He shakes his head. Lucifer sighs quietly and nods.
“Okay, Chloe. Come back soon. Gotta go, bye!”
“ Take care, Dan. Bye!”
And the phone cuts off leaving a heavy silence. Dan doesn’t break it, offering Lucifer the required time to process. And the latter clearly does. It takes him several long minutes to bring his shaky breaths under control.
“Thank you.” He says quietly, not looking at Dan.
“No worries, man. But… I gotta leave now. My shift is in a few hours and I won’t get more leaves.” He is already getting up by the end of the sentence. He does mean to check on him later that day because he still doesn’t trust him enough to take care of himself.
Lucifer nods, “Of course.”
Dan almost steps out of the room. But then, “Hey Lucifer?” He looks at him over his shoulders.
“Yes?”
“If the Devil is you, then the world has nothing to fear. And I never did thank you for protecting all of us for all these years. So, thank you. And your friends care about you, call’em! Bye!”
Dan definitely doesn’t hear the surprised inhale that Lucifer takes, the steel doors of elevators trapping him.
And as for Lucifer, he thinks he should call Linda up. Now that Chloe is coming back, he needs to fix himself.
*****
Several days later, the Devil lounges alone in his penthouse balcony, all healed and in better spirits. Dan hasn’t been a douche to him ever since, and he is still awaiting the Detective’s return, now though, with renewed hope. Dan has accepted him, Devilish bit and all, so surely the Detective will eventually accept him? A drink rests loosely in his hands as he takes in the LA night sky. His stars are twinkling extra brightly today.
He wishes to share the stories about his stars with the Detective. When she comes back. IF she accepts him that is. Which is still a huge grey area, but, oh well. What would be like when Chloe finally meets him after all these months?
Will she still be scared? Angry? Will she be happy to see him?
His mind rewinds to the fateful day when he kissed his detective under a starry night as today. His lips tingle at the memory. Oh, how he misses her! He is so lost in the memory that he almost misses the soft gush of air coming from his bedroom.
Almost.
Of course, one of his siblings has to come to annoy him. Or worse, punish him. Heart in mouth, and fear freezing in his vein, Lucifer turns on his heels, trotting towards the room -
Only to find no one. The bedroom is empty. For good measure, he checks behind the curtains and calls weird names. Those tend to freak his holy-assed siblings out. But no, there truly is no one.
Huh.
Maybe he had been mistaken-
Oh.
He spots the pearl-white envelope right beside the lampshade. With the seal of Heaven. Cold sweat breaks out his skin. That can’t be good. He is half tempted to tear the damned thing and fling the pieces off his balcony. But…
A letter with the Silver City’s stamp certainly means that they have come to take him back to Hell. Or a punishment to come. Or something much much worse.
What have I done now?
He can’t help but whimper. All this time, and nothing happens but now it does?! Why?!
He won’t look. He won’t read. Nope. He won’t do that. And yet, his limbs work in their own accord. Without his consent, his hands grip the letter, the paper wrinkling within his death grip.
Gosh, he needs a drink now. Lucifer takes a deep breath tearing the seal and pulling the letter out. Written in elegant, neat handwriting is… Dad’s letter?!
Hello, my son.
You have nothing to worry about. You are not being punished, and you will stay on Earth if you desire. I hold no grudges against you. (Lucifer snorts.) I am aware of the transgressions you had born forever, and I am deeply sorry for that. As a father, I believe, I have failed, and you truly deserve better. I know I haven’t been… let’s say the ideal parent but a recent encounter with someone made me realize that I should at least try.
There will be certain difficulties on your path, son. There will be times when you would question your choices and worth, but let me tell you something. The darker the darkness, the brighter the light.
And you shine the brightest, my Lightbringer.
We will talk when the time comes and all your questions will be answered. I give you my word.
Your Father.
Bollocks.Where the Hell is Linda when he needs her?!